


Lost

by allourheroes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, werewolf behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wouldn't have remembered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this...around when season two began. I decided to just do 500 words exactly and leave it that way. So... _here_. Take it.

“We’ve met before.”

Stiles goggles at him from his position on the bed, wriggling out of his plaid shirt and throwing it off the side. “Duh. I don’t usually hop into stranger’s beds. Well…depending on the stranger. I mean, if--”

“Stiles.” Derek kneels between the teenager’s legs, sighing. “I mean...before.”

“Before what?” Stiles squeaks as Derek runs his fingers down Stiles’s chest, stopping before he reaches the hem of his jeans.

Derek has a look about him that Stiles hasn’t seen often. One like he’s recalling the past, but… _fondly_. Derek thinking fondly of the past? He must be misinterpreting things.

“Do you remember when you were six and you got lost in the woods?” 

Stiles laughs, a bit manically, “Yeah, my dad had me for the day while my mom was at work. He tried to take me for a walk, but I got curious. Can’t remember what made me wander out there, but I always--” He stops, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open, as it was wont to do. “Hey. Wait.” He shifts, simultaneously cozying himself into the bed and sitting up to indicate his piqued curiosity. (Derek likes watching Stiles do these things--lax and yet bordering on hyperactivity.) “How’d you know about that? I didn’t even tell Scott. It’s not like it’s a fascinating story of misadventure or anything.”

Derek huffs a breath, almost annoyed, “You were right outside my house.” He leans in, nuzzles the side of Stiles’s throat, encouraging him to bare it--which Stiles does.

“Oh,” Stiles starts, running his fingers impatiently up Derek’s shirt, from his stomach to his chest, nails scratching lightly. Derek nips at the sensitive skin of his throat and he shivers, trying to remember that day. “I tripped and fell on my face,” Stiles adds, small details coming to him at the thought. “My dad-- No, uh, some kid helped me up,” he says. He’s smiling as the words leave his mouth. He might have forgotten what that kid looked like then, but he’s certain who it was now. “Did I say thank you?” he asks, half-sarcastically.

“I don’t think you did.” Derek smirks, gripping Stiles’s t-shirt and tugging it upwards, but not quite off. “You ran away,” the werewolf says, making Stiles grin.

He hadn’t had his balance back yet, he remembers. “I fell. Again. Then, you waited with me until my dad came,” Stiles continues. “But you were gone before he got there, so he always thought I made that part up--because I’d be traumatized out alone in the woods or something.” Stiles had thought he might’ve made it up, too.

There’s a rumble in Derek’s chest--not a growl, which Stiles knows far too well to mistake--but something else, more contented, amused. Derek inhales deeply, taking in the scent, memorizing every detail.

“Hey.” Stiles shoves at Derek until the werewolf pulls back, a tinge of confusion in his expression. “Thanks,” Stiles says simply, and kisses him, soft and slow.

Derek responds approvingly.


End file.
